


sink your teeth in, make me yours

by venomedveins



Series: Fire Starter [7]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blind Date, Buttplugs, Drama Llama, Fluff, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Schmoop, Welcoming Castus!, use of Daddy as a petname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heracleo's team joins Spartacus'.<br/>Agron and Nasir have a date night.<br/>Nasir has a new talent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sink your teeth in, make me yours

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone for waiting. I had the whole thing typed up and then my computer crashed and I did everything, but I couldn't recover the document. Thankfully with all your support and love, I managed to rewrite it!
> 
> A special thank you to crazzzedope for helping inspire me for this fic and giving me more ideas for further ones ;D
> 
> I just wanted to add in that I was completely inspired and mostly based Nasir's dance off this video [[X]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK3INyEm7-o)
> 
> It's fucking amazing.

Steam rises above the shower stall, clinging to the glass door and blurring the image of the man inside. Agron groans as he rubs his hands down his chest, wiping away the water and bubbles that still cling to his skin. He had waited for the others to shower, part to be a good assistant chief but also to have the time to himself. Agron's mind had been a mess of thoughts all day and the last thing he wanted was for the one relaxing aspect of it to be shared with fifteen other people. 

Turning the water off, Agron reaches for a towel and wraps it quickly around his waist. Now that the pounding of the shower is off, he can hear the racket the other crew members are making; dice being rolled and rauncheous laughter. They had just received some new 'recruits' – newly transferred fire fighters from across town. 

It's not that Agron doesn't like them. Alright, well, it is that he doesn't like them. He's tried to, tried to be open and accepting like Spartacus. Yet, he can't get over how vulgar they are. They can barely get through drills, are always sneaking off to grab a smoke out front, and complain about every aspect of a fireman's life. It's no wonder to Agron that they got transferred. 

Pulling on his underwear, Agron steps into the bunker. Lugo gives a loud catcall upon seeing him, laughing merrily after. It had started out as a gag, something to make the women – Saxa and Naevia – more comfortable around them. Agron is pretty sure though that any unwanted attention either of them received that they would be able to handle their own. 

The men are all spread across the bunk beds, the new guys set up in a corner rolling dice over one of the beds. Agron ignores them, though can't help but over hear their conversation.

“I'm sorry but a tight ass is better than any loose cunt,” Castus shouts over the laughter. 

“Hey!” Naevia protests the word, slapping Crixus' arm for joining in. 

“How would you know? When's the last time you had anything around your cock that wasn't your fist?” Heracleo slaps Castus' arm and the group begins another round of jabs and taunts. 

“Agron! Agron will agree with me!” Castus turns his attention. 

Agron buttons his pants slowly, rolling his eyes. 

“What?”

He glances over his shoulder, not missing the way Castus' eyes are trained to him. 

“You have a boyfriend, right? Wouldn't you say that his ass was better than any girl's?”

“I've never favored women, and his ass is none of your business.”

Agron raises his shirt from the bed, slipping it over his shoulders slowly, forcing himself to ignore Castus' next comment. 

“Damn man, I was just joking. No need to be so testy about it. He must be pretty good for you to be so protective.”

“He's a looker,” Barca grins, lifting his head from his bed, “lives in downtown Brooklyn with Pietros.”

“Oh yeah?” Castus seems to latch on to the idea of teasing Agron, unaware of the thin line he treads. 

“Cute little punk kid. Lots of tattoos, super long hair, ya know, very Brooklyn.” Barca watches Agron's face, grin never leaving it. 

“This kid got a name?” Castus asks, wanting more details.

“ _Nasir_ ,” Saxa supplies, smirking as she purposely elongates the s.

“Agron hasn't shut up about him since he stole him from his boyfriend.” Donar spits, playing with one of the dice.

“You helped him cheat?” Naevia looks up, startled at the idea. 

“Yep. For about three months, wasn't it?” Donar asks, mouth twisting bitterly. 

Agron's fingers flex around the buttons on his shirt, trying to contain his anger. Spartacus will not be happy if Agron gets in another fight at the house. 

“And apparently his ass is pretty good. I can't even stay at Pietros' anymore. All I hear is,” Barca raises his voice in a high falsetto, “ _Oh god, Agron. Fuck me. You're so good._ ”

“ _Oh! Oh fuck! You're a god! Agron! Ah-Ah-Agron!_ ” Lugo joins in, his thick accent punctuating the words. 

“ _Harder! Agron! Fuck me harder_ ” Saxa's girlish squeals sing above the laughter. 

“ _Hurt me! Hurt me Daddy! I've been such a bad boy!_ ”

Barca's high pitched wail is what pushes Agron finally to his breaking point. 

“Stop!” Turning sharply, Agron hits the bunk bed hard enough to nearly throw Saxa from her perch, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh come on, brother. It's just a joke,” Heracleo spreads his arms in a mock surrender. 

“Fuck off,” Agron growls, grabbing his wallet and keys from the bed. He knows they wouldn't dare be doing this if Spartacus was around. “Unless you want to be on fucking mop and bucket duty for the rest of your time, I suggest you find something more productive to do. This isn't a bar. This isn't a club. This is your fucking job.”

Silence descends onto the bunker, eyes turning to stare at Agron. No one dares comment again as he turns, slamming the door hard enough the glass rattles in the pane over the door. 

\- - -

“Hey-oh!” Nasir barely has the door open before Agron is pushing inside. His large hands cup Nasir's cheeks, nearly picking the smaller man off his feet in order to kiss him. It's not a kiss of greeting either, but a harsh slamming of his lips down upon Nasir's, tongue already pushing inside Nasir's warm mouth. Agron presses him up against the door frame, already caressing into Nasir's long hair. 

His neighbors are probably use to this, but little old lady Johnson across the hall probably doesn't need to see Agron manhandling Nasir up the door frame. Scooting over a little, Nasir manages to grip Agron's leather jacket and yank him into the apartment, kicking the door shut. 

Moving his mouth down over Nasir's jaw, Agron begins biting and sucking on his neck, undoing the few buttons on his shirt to reach the skin. It's as if he's crazed, the way his hands keep rubbing up and down Nasir's back, scooping lower to grip his ass firmly. 

“Agron?” Nasir feels his Agron's fingers slide around to his front, toying with his belt, “Babe?”

Agron continues to ignore him, tugging on his earlobe instead.

“Not that I mind the impromptu mauling,” Nasir pants, staring up at the ceiling, “but do you mind telling me - _Ah! Fuck Agron!_ \- what caused this?”

“Missed you,” Agron growls into Nasir's ear, finally managing to undo the other man's shirt completely. 

“I missed you too,” Nasir pushes against Agron's chest, just enough to create space between them. He knows that that Agron only steps back because he wants to, not because Nasir posses the strength to actually move Agron. 

Agron's eyes are dark, half lidded with a feral grin pulling back his features. It's clear that he's hard, tented up against his jeans. Nasir wants to give him, let Agron completely take him over, drag him to the floor and fuck his brains out. It's the way he's standing though, shoulders tense and arms flexed that hints at things not being as they seem. 

“Are you okay?”

Moving forward, Agron ducks his head again to restart his assault on Nasir's neck, avoiding the question. He won't have any of it though. Pressing his hands firmly to Agron's large chest, Nasir locks his elbow and shoves. 

“Hey,” Nasir searches Agron's face, “what's up with you?”

“Nothing, baby boy, I just missed you,” Agron replies gruffly, lowering his head again to kiss the side of Nasir's face, trailing his lips over Nasir's smooth cheek to his jaw. 

“I missed you too but,” Nasir kisses Agron's temple, pulling the man into a tight hug, “you saw me yesterday. We had lunch.”

“I know. Sometimes, I just want to be around you, okay?” Agron burrows his face in Nasir's neck, holding the man up nearly on his toes to reach him. 

Nasir hides his blush, feeling the warm creeping sensation of affection crowding in on his chest. It's a new feeling, something he's never had with anyone else. It's especially for Agron. 

“Do you still want to go get dinner or would you rather stay in?” Nasir runs his fingers through Agron's hair, listening to his labored breaths. 

“We should go out. I promised you a real date, didn't I?” Agron pulls back, wiping at his chin. 

“Yeah but if you-” Nasir's words are cut off as Agron leans forward to kiss him, a chaste and soft pressing of lips that seems to suck the air from Nasir's lungs. 

“Let me treat my boyfriend to a real date.”

Agron smiles, up close and mesmerizing; Nasir can only nod. 

“Go get your shoes on.”

Turning, Nasir easily moves through the living room and into his room, disappearing from sight. He returns a moment later, shirt rebuttoned and hair a little tamer, carrying a pair of black shoes in one hand and his phone in the other. One wouldn't even suspect the previous events if it weren't for the blush on Nasir's face or the dark mark on his neck. 

It suddenly hits Agron full force, how much he really does care for Nasir. It's not just the perfect way Nasir fits against Agron's side, or the way his legs seem to grip Agron's ribs with unquestionable strength. It's the little things. It's the way Nasir's nose wrinkles when he's angry. The way he always hogs all the blankets before throwing them off and curling up against Agron instead. The way he chews on his pencils when he's not sure of what to draw. The strong hands that slide over Agron's shoulders when he's reading on the couch, Nasir kissing him on the side of the neck in greeting. His tiny body in Agron's over sized shirts, ass peeking out. The tentative look on his face the first time he had laid down on the couch and put his feet in Agron's lap, only to be reduced to moans later when Agron had absent-mindedly rubbed at his ankles. 

Tiny little freckles and habits that form this beautiful and perfect man who is standing staring at Agron with a blush high on his cheekbones and bottom lip caught between little white teeth. 

“What are you staring at?”

“You,” Agron breathes, not realizing how tight he chest was until now, “Just you.”

“You sure you want to go out? You're still acting weird,” Nasir moves across the floor, pulling his shoes on as he goes. 

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Agron moves aside when Nasir passes him, following him closely out the door. It's not until they're on the other side that Agron has the balls to say what he's really thinking. 

“Hey Nasir?”

Fiddling with the lock, Nasir glances over his shoulder. 

“I'm really glad you decided to go out with me.”

“Well, I'm pretty fucking hungry.” Nasir smirks, turning as he finally gets the front door to lock – it always sticks. 

“No I mean,” Agron stops when Nasir kisses his cheek, gripping his hand tightly. 

“I know. I'm glad you're my boyfriend too.”

\- - -

Agron leads Nasir out to his truck, smothering his laughter as he has to help boost him into it. It's a Chevy and lifted and Nasir thinks it's ridiculous (especially in the city). He repeats the fact all the way to the restaurant, laughing his way through Agron's struggle to find parking (it takes them half an hour until Agron can squeeze the truck between a Honda and a smart car. Nasir continues to giggle the whole way through it, only stopping when Agron turns and kisses him silent. 

They finally manage to make it into the restaurant and after orders have been placed and drinks have been bought, Nasir takes a moment to asses the man before him. Agron's less tense, leaning back in his chair as his thumb traces along the design on the side of his glass. His hair is mused, ruffled from Nasir's desperate fingers in the car earlier. 

“How was work?” Agron asks, smirking at the dazed look on Nasir's face. 

“Oh! It was good, slow, did sister tattoos,” Nasir shrugs, glancing down at his glass of water before taking a drink. The fact that he's not old enough to drink in public still annoys him, especially because he could really use a shot of whiskey at this point. 

“Butterflies or infinity signs?” Agron's foot lightly taps Nasir's, seemingly by accident but the sheer presence of it has Nasir's heart beating faster. 

“Birds.”

Agron's laughter is bright, lighting up his whole face and putting his dimples on clear display. It seems to crack the darker mood from before.

“What about you? How was work? The wife and kids?”

Nasir toys with his straw, easing into the light conversation. 

“Work was whatever. Two house fires, three ambulance calls,” Agron leans his elbows on the table, “Seriously can not stand the new guys.”

“They still giving you trouble?”

“They're just so,” Agron pauses to find the word.

“Vulgar? Barbaric? Prone to undermine your authority and make you stress out?” Nasir offers, smirking behind the rim of his glass.

“All of the above and more,” Agron groans, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but there really is nothing I can do. Spartacus wants us all to give them a chance, to learn to trust them and make them part of the team.”

“And you don't see that happening?” Nasir asks. 

“No,” Agron sighs, reaching out to gently rub a finger along Nasir's knuckles, “but I've learned over the past couple of months that amazing things come in surprising packages.”

“You're cute,” Nasir tries to play it off. 

“I mean it, I'm really glad you decided to call me that night,” Agron's hand easily intertwines with Nasir's. 

“I didn't have much choice. When I met you, you were just so...overwhelming,” Nasir pauses on the word, deciding it's a safe choice. 

“What? You mean when my drunken brother shoved me over to you?” Agron's grin is wicked. “I never did get my back painted.”

“I got distracted!” Nasir defends. 

“Oh yeah, by my half naked body? Don't think I haven't noticed you checking me out.”

“Yes, I only stay with you for your abs. It's a sad but true fact. The minute you lose them, I'm out the door, babe.” Nasir shakes his head, unable to stop from giggling. 

“My mistake, I thought you just stayed for my big cock.”

Nasir can feel his face growing hot again, scandalized as the waitress moves into eyesight, having been close enough to over hear Agron's last comment. She sets their food down down, eying Agron through half downcast eyelashes. It's not uncommon for the man to get longing stares, the sharp spike of anger that raises in Nasir's gut is extremely new though. She doesn't say anything when she exits, only winks at Nasir as if they now share a secret.

“You timed that,” Nasir accuses, finding it hard to not be mesmerized by Agron's dimpled smirk. 

They fall into comfortable silence after, both too hungry to really keep the teasing conversation alive. It's not awkward or strange though, both men finding solace in each other's company. It isn't until halfway through their meal that Nasir thinks to comment again. 

“I'm going to have to cancel on Duro Saturday.”

“Yeah? Not up for erotic modeling again?” Agron raises an eyebrow, licking the side of his fork slowly.

“It wasn't erotic. You just get turned on by everything I do,” Nasir cuts Agron's next comment off, knowing it's going to be dirty, “But no, a friend of mine called me and asked me to fill in for one of her main dancers. They got some bacteria thing and won't be able to perform.”

“Dance? Is there anything you can't do?” Agron inquires. 

“Cartwheels. Ride a horse. Hang a picture straight,” Nasir reaches across the table, lacing his fingers back through Agron's, “Resist you.”

“But you can be ridiculously charming when you want to be,” Agron raises their clasped hands, kissing the back of Nasir's. 

“I learned from the best.” Nasir has never flirted like this before, caring and cute above trying to seduce. 

“I should bring the boys though. I've been owing them a night out.” Agron returns to his food after a moment. 

“What? Are you sure? It's not really something you'd be into,” Nasir can feel apprehension prickling along his spine. 

“Of course. I have Saturday off so it's no big deal,” Agron shrugs.

“You do realize that I'm stripping, right?” Nasir asks, dumbfounded at Agron's flippant tone. 

Agron pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth, sauce running down the side and onto his fingers. He's suspended in air, mouth half open as he stares at Nasir across the table, unsure of what he's just heard. 

“What?”

Nasir brings his hands together, wringing his fingers as he goes on to explain. 

“I use to do it when I first got into college. Art school is pretty fucking expensive and I needed to make ends meet,” Nasir shrugs, “I only did it for about a year. I stopped once I met-” 

Agron knows already; Nasir doesn't need to continue. 

“You stopped once you met Caesar.”

“It's not going to be anything like that though. I'll be on the stage most of the time, not in some back room giving lap dances.” Nasir reassures, reaching out to take Agron's hand again. He needs to feel the touch to be grounded. 

“No, of course not,” Agron says it like he's trying to reassure himself, not agree.

“Look, money has been tight around the shop lately. Business isn't exactly booming. Working one night for Ilithia will make me enough for rent and then some,” Nasir pulls Agron's knuckles up to his lips, kissing them softly, “Please don't be mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you,” Agron finally deflates, chewing over the words before continuing, “I understand it. I know the city is expensive.”

“But you don't want me doing it?” Nasir sighs, feeling anxiety begin to creep into his chest. 

“No, you're your own person. I'm not going to be some crazy controlling boyfriend and tell you what to do,” Agron smiles reassuringly, even if it's a little forced, “I'm still coming though.”

“Are you sure?” Nasir asks again, “I don't want you to get, well, you know.”

“Get how?” Agron raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “How do I get?”

Nasir starts and stops numerous times, waving his hands a little before spitting out, “You have a tendency to get a little over jealous when people hit on me is all.” 

“Over jealous?” Licking his lips, Agron shifts a little, antagonizing more out of the other man. 

“Yeah, like, remember that time last week when that barista slid me his number when we were out?” Nasir begins, “and you threatened to shove the napkin down his throat if he didn't leave me alone? That's over jealous.”

“I just want to protect you. That guy was an asshole,” Agron's face is very close to pulling a full blown pout. 

“I'm not complaining. I like that you like me and want me to be all yours. You have no idea how incredibly hot it is to see you go all tense and stock over to people to defend my honor,” Nasir reassures.

“You think it's hot when I threaten people because they look at you?” Agron asks incrudeously.

“Yeah, totally. You get all deep voiced and manhandle me around. It's so fucking sexy,” Nasir might be stretching the truth a little bit, possibly leaving out the way Nasir's heart pounds in slight fear each time someone makes Agron mad.

“I'd never hurt you though,” Agron's earnest expression makes Nasir believe it, no questions asked. 

“I know, babe. You just get a little crazy sometimes. That won't work at _Ludos_.”

“But you have rules, don't you? No touching the strippers?” Agron trips over the last word, still unable to imagine they're having this conversation. 

“Of course. Everything is at a distance.” Nasir nods, taking a much needed gulp from his water. 

Sighing, Agron rubs at his eyes for a moment before leaning forward again. He takes both of Nasir's hands into his own, kissing the knuckles on each before looking him in the eye. Agron feels raw, out of his skin when he says the next words. 

“Alright. But I'm still coming and I have rules of my own.”

Nasir feels the tension leaving his body, relaxing back into his seat. 

“Lay them on me, Daddy.”

Agron's face pinkens under the petname, grin slow and self indulgent. 

“No private lap dances. No getting completely naked. You leave with me. And I get to punch anyone who grabs your ass.”

Nasir can feel his face pulling into a grin, charmed by Agron's need to be protective and assertive over Nasir. It's not control so much as concern, something that Nasir has never experienced before. 

“I can abide by those.”

The waitress comes back to cut them off again, clearing plates and offering the desert menu. Both men turn it down, too enthralled by the other to even focus on the meal's end or the check she delicately places on the end of the table. After so many months, Nasir doesn't even reach for it – knowing Agron will just snatch it out of his hand. 

“You know, I haven't danced in a long time,” Nasir slowly looks up at Agron through his long eyelashes, “I could use some practice.”

Agron can't resist it. It's all over-powering heat that curls deep in his stomach, inflaming him to nearly over boiling. No one has ever been able to turn Agron on like this, pull reactions from him, manipulate him into suddenly wanting nothing more than to lay Nasir's body down and spend days unraveling it. 

Agron grins slow, tossing way more money onto the table than needs to be, grabbing Nasir's hand and pulling him towards the door. They giggle like children all the way to the truck. 

 

\- - - 

 

"Did you have to fucking invite them?" Agron asks for the third time this evening.

Spartacus shoots him a glare, raising an eyebrow, "We are supposed to bonding with them. They're part of the team now."

Cupping his hands together, Agron blows into them, cursing his luck in the October air. It always gets so cold here, wind blowing off the Atlantic to chill the air as early as September. 

"Yeah, but here?" 

Spartacus leans closer to talk in a half hushed half hissed whisper. "You didn't tell me what exactly what were going to be doing here."

Agron sighs, turning his gaze upwards in a roll, "I'm sorry I didn't exactly mention that my boyfriend was going to be stripping this evening. Maybe if I had, you wouldn't have brought the fucking pirates with you."

As if called, Heracleo and his group arrive, laughing loudly amongst each other. They join the other two men in loud greeting, offering a water bottle full of brown liquid to each. Agron sneers at them, Spartacus politely declining the barely camouflaged liquor. 

"Strip joint, huh? So the mighty Spartacus does have a weakness," Heracleo grins, slapping the named man on his arm. 

"I've heard the drinks here are good," Spartacus plays it off, glancing at Agron. 

"Here's Duro," Agron coughs, moving to greet his brother in a hug. 

"Shit man. You're half frozen. Where is your jacket?" Duro laughs, cupping the back of Agron's neck. 

"I dunno. I think I left it at Nasir's or something," Agron shrugs it off, feeling apprehension prickle along his neck, "Can we just get inside?"

"A little eager? Don't you have a boyfriend waiting for you?" Auctus teases, wrapping his arm around Duro's waist. 

"Yes," Agron grits between his teeth. 

"You should have invited him out," Auctus grins knowingly, "I'm sure you'd love it. Right up his alley and all." 

Agron turns on his heel, stalking into the club, ignoring Auctus' teasing laughter. 

He manages to find them a table up towards the middle left. It's large enough to fit all of them—Spartacus, Mira, Saxa, Auctus, Duro, and all of Heracleo's group. Agron doesn't have the ambition or the desire to learn all their names. Though, right smack dab in the middle is Castus, grinning and greeting the waitresses. It's familiar and revealing how much Castus must frequent the place. 

Snagging a Jameson and Ginger, Agron manages to sit through a half an hour of Duro's mindless chatter and Auctus' cooing remarks. They're sickeningly sweet, Auctus' large arm wrapped securely around Duro's shoulders, toying with one of his curls. 

Agron can barely stand it, pulling out his phone and checking the time. The two bears on the stage stripping out of their respective cop and firefighter uniforms aren't doing anything for him, and his palms seem to be itching. He finally gives in, pulling up Nasir's contact.

_we're here. might kill duro and auctus_

His phone vibrates a moment later. 

_they are cute but we are cuter_

Agron can't help the grin that tugs on his lips.

_when are you coming out? i can't look at another guy in a fake fighter's uniform_

_soon. super nervous. promise to behave? ;P_

Agron takes in the crowd's cheering, their vulgar laughter, and Castus' leering face. 

_i'll try_

The two men exit the stage, shorts filled with money. Agron manages to wave down a waitress, ordering another drink before the announcer comes blaring over the system again. 

"Been away from us too long! Give a warm welcome and a hard cock's welcome to the prodigal son's return—Tiberius!"

A spotlight swings onto the stage, illuminating the back of the next dancer. His long hair is pulled into a high pony tail, black waves curling down his back. He's wearing a black leather jacket too long for him. It hangs off his body, only letting his thin brown legs stick out. Bending over a little at the waist, the jacket rises up over his ass, exposing tiny black spandex shorts rimmed in lace. 

It's as if ice water and boiling have been poured into Agron's gut as realization hits in the moment the man looks over his shoulder. That's Agron's jacket. That's Nasir in Agron's jacket. 

"Holy fuck," Duro exhales next to Agron's jaw dropping. His eyes dart from Agron's blank face to Auctus' laughing one over and over, unsure of who to look at. 

Mira and Saxa's squeals mix in with the crowds as Nasir turns slowly, smirk in place. He rubs his hands slowly down the front of the jacket, caressing the leather before slowly peeling it open. He's bare chested underneath, covered in glitter that shimmers under the strobe lights. 

Nasir moves forward with a seductive roll of his hips, inching the jacket open further open to reveal a shining bar in his bellybutton and sharp hip bones. He teases the leather up and down his arms, turning and lowering it as he reveals a splatter of love bites on the back of his shoulders in the perfect shape of Agron's mouth. Nasir discards the jacket it to the side with a wink, easily sliding to his hands in one easy move, spreading his legs wide once he gets there. 

Agron can't look away, too enthralled as Nasir slowly crawls across the hard, black plastic floor. He's a fucking vision, arching his back and lifting his ass. There is something off in his movements though, legs seeming to clench together at points almost as if-

Blood rushes to Agron's groin, heating him up and pounding in his head. He knows that movement, the tremble in Nasir's thighs. It's the same that always happens right after Agron's come inside him, filled him up, and Nasir clenches as hard as he can to keep anything from leaking out. He has something in him, gaping him open under those shorts. 

He eases down fluidly, easily moving his hips and down from the floor. It's the exact replica of the way Nasir begs for it in bed, sliding against the bed or the floor, thrusting back on Agron's cock. He's basically humping the floor, grinning at the crowd that shouts and catcalls, begging for more.

It's an image that doesn't escape the man. Agron can feel his cock pressed up hard and wet against the zipper of his jeans, sweat pooling on the back of his neck. 

"Do you see the ass on that stripper?" Castus' voice booms from the left side of the table.

"For a few bucks, you can probably see it up close," Heracleo's comment dissolves the group back into laughter. 

Agron's hands flex on his knees, ignoring the men in favor of watching Nasir.

Nasir gets up slowly, reaching to wrap a hand around the metal pole before him. He walks around it, spreading his legs and thrusting forward. It's a slow drag of metal around the line of Nasir's cock before he lifts himself off the ground.

It's a slow assent, but Nasir spins himself the whole time, hair cascading out as he hangs upside down. Abs tense, Nasir balances himself out, arms above his head. With careful and practiced movements, he flips over, legs crossed above his head and slides down. 

He moves with practiced ease, waving his body against it, arms holding him up before spinning a leg around. Right side up, Nasir eases his legs out straight, spreading them wide and pointing his toes. He flips around on the pole like he's not supposed to be on the ground, winding his hips up and down the metal.

The way he moves is not only erotic but impressive, upper body strength surprising on such a small body. It's dizzying the way Nasir spins around the pole, working it against his body. Agron can't take his eyes off him, especially when he rolls back onto the floor in a perfect split, bouncing a little with his legs spread and smirking at the crowd. 

The men in the front row slide closer still as Nasir moves towards them, crawling on his hands and knees. He tosses his head, bangs in his eyes, drawing close enough to the crowd for them to touch. 

They slip dollar bills into Nasir's waistband, sliding it along his side. Nasir plays into it, smacking his lips at the men and leaning forward to pull a twenty from between a man's fingers with his teeth. Winking, he slips the money into the front of his shorts, slipping right off the stage once he's done. 

"Oh my fucking god," Mira squeals with Saxa as Nasir inches through the first row of men. 

Agron shifts to sit up straighter, hand moving to grip his glass instead. Nasir's eyes dart amongst the crowd until they land on Agron's, mouth pulling into a grin. He inches his way into a man's lap, not touching him but straddling his thigh and arching down, gyrating without making contact. 

"Hey gorgeous. Come here," Castus waves a fifty towards Nasir, spreading his legs as if it's an invitation. 

Nasir does come towards them, but he blatantly ignores Castus in favor of sliding up against the table. Swinging his hips, Nasir reaches out and steals the cherry from the top of Mira's drink, sucking on it between his lips before popping it in his mouth. The girls laugh, delighted at his antics. Both Mira and Saxa both slip dollar bills into his waistband, falling into each other with giggles.

Nasir's gaze never leaves Agron as he plants his hands on the table and lifts himself onto in. Continuing to move to the base, Nasir winds his hips slowly. It inches his shorts up over the bottom of his ass, showing more skin in a tease.

Agron wants nothing more than to lean forward and take the smooth skin between his teeth, burying his mouth between them and taste Nasir. He always falls apart when Agron eats him out, squirming and begging for more. The first time Agron had done it, Nasir had come in five minutes flat, completely without being touched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Agron watches as Castus stands, extending his money out again to Nasir. He moves close to him, leaning over to teasingly slide the fifty down Nasir's waist and into the elastic around his hips. Nasir draws closer to hear Castus', laughing loudly at whatever he's saying.

He pulls back with a playful shake of his head, laughing as Castus motions towards the back of the club. It's an open invitation for a lap dance. Something firmly against Agron's rules and Nasir knows it, locking eyes with the man again. 

All thoughts of Castus seem to flee Nasir's thoughts the minute he turns back to look at Agron. He crouches down, tilting his head slightly as he extends a hand and runs just the tips of his fingers down Agron's chest. 

His black shirt is sticking to him with sweat, blood pounding. Agron scoots his chair back from the table and it's all the invitation that Nasir needs. Watching the glasses, he swings his feet down to the floor, easing himself forward and into Agron's lap. 

Turning around, Nasir braces his shoulders back on the other man's chest as a new song starts over the PA, something heavier with a grinding bass that spurs Nasir's movements on. He doesn't sit down in Agron's lap, but winds his hips over it, teasingly hovering a mere inch above the inflamed skin. 

Nasir can feel Agron's labored breaths on his ear, coursing hot and damp over his skin, raising goosebumps. It amazes him the amount of control Agron is displaying, hands flexed at his sides but not touching. No, Agron just watches with silent mouth and knowing eyes. 

Mira is nearly in Spartacus' lap, phone held in front of her face. It occurs to Agron that she's probably recording this, loving watching him struggle not to yank his boyfriend down on his cock, thrust up against his ass—regardless of anyone watching. 

Leaning his head back, Nasir turns his face into the side of Agron's neck, moaning in his ear. It's so hard to keep from pressing back on him, one hand gripped behind Agron's neck for balance. The plug inside of him drags slowly over his prostate for a moment, and Nasir's eyes flutter shut in pleasure. It's too much, too fucking hot, he needs to see Agron's face, to know what he's thinking. He's never been able to control himself around this man and he doubts he ever will.

Flipping over, Nasir doesn't hesitate to straddle Agron's lap, fitting his arms over his shoulders. He slides forward, grinding down hard in tight figure eights, gasping as he feels Agron involuntarily thrust up. His cock drags against Nasir's in a thick line, separated by too many layers. It's delicious, heightened pleasure by the hard plastic inside of Nasir, gaping him open and keeping him closed at the same time.

Raising a hand, Agron easies a dollar bill down Nasir's back, tracing the edge of a shoulder blade before slipping it into the back of Nasir's shorts. His fingertip slips into the crevice of Nasir's ass, a tease and a promise of things to come. 

“Fuck!” Nasir gasps, fisting his hands in Agron's damp shirt, grinding even harder. 

Nasir is so certain he could come from this, is positive he's nearly there, but then the song seems to winding down. The last few notes of the bass ring out, quivering through Nasir's body, forcing his eyes up to meet Agron's flushed face. It occurs to him at that moment that he has something he's never had before – control over someone. He's the one in command of this situation. It fills Nasir with a different kind of pleasure. 

With a nearly evil smirk, Nasir still his body with the song, backing off of the other man's lap. He can see Agron's resolve cracking, jaw gritted tight and eyes glowing in the strobes. He doesn't even react when Nasir turns on his heel, gracefully moving back through the crowd. 

“Agron! Fuck you man! I gave him fifty and he laughed at me. You give him a fucking dollar and he basically just rode you!” Castus' tone is trying for joking but falls flat. 

Auctus decides to intervene before Agron does, sensing the outcome of the conversation not being something they should start in a club. 

“Don't feel too bad. He had an unfair advantage.”

“What?” Castus turns his attention over, scowling. 

“That's Nasir.”

A confused look passes over Castus' face, trying to remember why that name sounds so familiar. 

“Agron's Nasir.”

Auctus rolls his eyes, wrapping his fingers through Duro's. Duro grins up at him, drunk and red-faced, curls sweat stuck to his forehead. Overcome by the adorableness of the man in front of him, Auctus gives in and kisses him, ignoring for the time being how much he's afraid of his quickly growing feelings.

“That's his boyfriend?” Heracleo leans in, mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“Hell yeah he is,” Mira nods, staring at the video on her phone. 

Having heard enough, Agron stands suddenly, eyes trained forward. 

“I'll be back.”

The group watches in silent fascination as Agron shoves through the crowd, coming to pause before a long black curtain to the left of the stage. He exchanges a few sharp words with the bouncer, towering over the darker man with a grim expression. It's only a few moments before the man is drawing back the curtain and ushering Agron inside with a sideways glance. 

\- - -

The hallway leading into the changing rooms is dark, barely lit by flickering bulbs between the doorways. Half naked men and women pass by Agron, brushing up against him with dark eyes and lingering hands. He ignores it all, focus unwavering on the half opened door at the end of the hall. Agron can feel that Nasir is inside, the light pouring out into the hallway an invitation. 

Agron pushes the door open slightly, leaning on the frame to observe the man inside. Nasir is leaving over a short wooden table, face inches from the mirror as he fixes his eyeliner. The glitter on his back has streaked, clinging to the dimples on his lower back. He hasn't bothered to fix his shorts, the soft round skin peeking out amongst the lace and dimpling from the spandex. 

“I didn't get to give you a proper tip.”

Nasir turns around at the voice, nearly jumping out of his skin. He quickly replaces it with a coy smirk, leaning back on the table a little, playing with the edge of his shorts. 

“What I want from you is much more than a tip.”

Agron can't control himself anymore. The gloating, self satisfied Nasir is sexy as hell, but if Agron doesn't get his hands on him soon, he's pretty fucking sure he's going to explode. Stepping into the room, Agron looms above the smaller man, head nearly reaching the low ceiling. 

Nasir's eyes widen, mouth dropping as Agron's large hand comes out to grip the edge of the table. He just has enough time to scramble out of the before it goes flying across the room, teetering on it's legs before righting itself. There is no where for Nasir to go as Agron's other hand moves, slipping over Nasir's long neck. 

“You are a horrible fucking tease,” Agron growls, pressing Nasir firmly against the mirrored wall by his neck. 

Nasir flounders, gaping up at the other man. He can't seem to string any sentences together, let alone form words under Agron's heated gaze. He swallows against the firm grip on his neck, not cutting off hair but heavy and warm.

Slipping his hand slowly down Nasir's chest, Agron pauses on the silver barbell in his navel. He toys with it a little, watching at the way Nasir's shorts tent further under the teasing stimulation. It's not long before he moves on though, fingertips slipping into the waistband on Nasir's shorts. 

“Ah!” Nasir gasps when Agron pulls the fabric out, smirking at the flushed and red cock pressed tightly to his tan stomach. 

“You have no idea what you did to me out there. So fucking proud of yourself, aren't you?” Agron growls, keeping his hand firmly on Nasir's throat, he moves to his own pants, ripping them open with one hand. 

Nasir nods quickly, reaching out to lift Agron's shirt up over his stomach, stroking the soft skin. He wants that chest against him, crushing him into the mirror, mouth and teeth on his flesh. Nasir isn't sure, but he swears he's babbling it, dark eyes darting across Agron's face. 

Pushing his jeans down to his knees, Agron removes his hands from Nasir only long enough to toss his shirt to the side. He's back within seconds, fingers twisting around Nasir's pony tail to flip him over, shoving his chest into the glass.

Nasir gasps as the cold mirror connects with his chest, already pushing his hips back. He doesn't care how eager or slutty he may seem. He wants it. He's been wanting it since he slipped Agron's jacket over his shoulders over an hour ago. If he's an addict to Agron's cock, he hopes he's never cured. 

“I've been naughty Daddy, but I just want you so bad.” Nasir whines, arching his back and pressing his ass out. 

“I know you do. Is that why you put a fucking plug in yourself? So you'd be ready when I came to claim what's mine?” Agron growls, roughly pulling down the back of Nasir's shorts. 

He does it on purpose, keeping the spandex stretched taut over Nasir's leaking cock, trapping it inside. Raising his hand, Agron smacks Nasir's ass roughly, delighted as the skin pinkens under the blow, doing it again when Nasir whines for it. 

“I wanted to-I wanted to-” Nasir babbles, cheek resting on the mirror, fogging it up with his breath, “I wanted to keep you inside me.”

Agron doesn't freeze at the words, if anything, he becomes more rabid. Pushing his fingers between Nasir's cheeks, he clutches at the end of the plug, spinning it a little before easing it out slowly. White fluid clings to the wide domed head, more trickling from Nasir's hole. It all comes crashing back to Agron, prickling the hair on the back of his neck in pleasure. 

“When did you put this inside of you?” Agron asks, voice lowering even more into a rumble against Nasir's ear. 

“A-After this morning,” Nasir whimpers, “I didn't want to-”

“You've had this in all day?” Agron was not expecting the sudden feral desire to claim that gathers in his chest, incredibly turned on. 

Nasir nods, glancing over his shoulder guiltily, “You went to start the shower and I just-I didn't want to lose it. I want you in me all the time.”

Agron is at a loss for words, so instead moves quickly to actions. Using the leaking liquid, he slicks up his cock, twisting around the purpling skin. He knows it's not going to be enough but Nasir practically dripping, thighs slick with old sperm and sweat. Gripping the back of his neck, Agron angles Nasir's head down to watch in the other mirror as he lines up. 

“You want it bad, baby boy? You need to watch as it goes in you,” Agron growls the instructions, making sure Nasir's eyes stay open as he slides into him. 

It's an easier glide than Agron first though, managing to fit himself in with a few short thrusts. Nasir crawls up the mirror with it, hands smudging the glass as he watches with an open mouth, moaning involuntarily. He wants it rough. He wants to feel Agron's cock spearing through him, long and hot and wet and more than Nasir was ever sure he could take but needs to. Fuck, he needs Agron like he needs air.

Agron doesn't wait for him to adjust. He doesn't care all that much at the moment. Instead, he plants his feet and grips Nasir's hips in bruising hands, shoving him against the mirror with brutal thrusts. It's erratic and unsynchronized, animalistic grunts into Nasir's hair and his balls slapping against his thighs. 

Nasir is a mess, sobbing out against the glass, fogging it and streaking it with leaking tears and sweat. He can't grip onto anything but the back of Agron's neck, nails digging into the flesh as he tries and fails to push back against him. Agron's grip on Nasir's hips shift, one hand rising up to wrap around Nasir's throat again, chopping the cries into bits and pieces. He presses only enough to cut off half of Nasir's air supply, more of a collar than a gag. 

The whole place can probably hear them. Agron is usually pretty quiet in bed, letting out deep groans and sighs, but never growling like this. It shakes both of them, revving him up to pound into the tiny body in front of him. He's never been this forceful before, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that if Nasir asked him to stop, really stop, he would. It's just that he can barely think of anything but the tight heat surrounding him, Nasir's sweet scent in his nose. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” Nasir gasps, slapping his knees forward with each brutal shove of Agron's cock within him, “Daddy! Agron please!”

His cock is trapped within the shorts, leaking and begging to get out. The fabric chafes him, rubs wet and rough against his already over stimulated skin. He knows he should have put a cock ring on before going out to dance, but he was hard the very minute he got on stage, finding Agron in the crowd with ease. 

Now though, he's sure there is no escape for him. Every aborted attempt to free himself causes Agron's teeth to embed in his shoulders, forcing him to scramble back up the wall. He's never had sex like this. It's not sex. It's not for pleasure. It's fucking, hard rabid fucking that pushes Nasir nearly to the brink of what feels like death. 

“So satisfied with yourself, teasing me like that in front of everyone. Letting them touch you and want you. But they don't know, huh? They don't know who you come to when you want it, who you beg to fuck you,” Agron spits the words into Nasir's ear, licking over the curl of it. 

“No,” Nasir whimpers, “No. I go to you. I'm yours.”

“Say it again,” Agron instructs, hips speeding up. 

“I'm yours! I'm yours Agron!” Nasir cries, tossing his head back against Agron's shoulder.

“Mine.”

Agron presses into Nasir one more time before he feels his walls clamp up. With a dying wail, Nasir's cock gives him, spurting liquid heat into the side of the shorts, clinging to his balls, coating his cock, and sticking the fabric even more against him. He feels like he's dead, completely wrung out but unable to collapse as Agron isn't quiet there. 

It feels impossible that Agron manages to fuck Nasir through his orgasm, body tightening enough that it feels as if he's about to break Agron's cock in half. He keeps going though, bucking into Nasir without abandon, hands twisting his flesh into a purple and red mess. 

“Fill me up,” Nasir whispers, mouth dry and lips cracked, “Please Agron, please.”

There is no sweeter sound to Agron than the sound of Nasir begging. With three ferocious thrusts, Agron's orgasm rips through him. He feels like he's being cored as stream after stream of come fills Nasir's trembling body, leaking out around where they're joined and dripping onto the floor. 

He nearly collapses from it, having enough energy to wrap his arms around Nasir before tottling back, just barely making it to the couch shoved into the corner of the room. Nasir is a whimpering mess, hands coming up to cover his face as he sobs into them, having no other energy in him to even turn his face into Agron's neck. 

Agron's arms shake when he picks Nasir up, releasing his cock from deep within him. Fluid leaks down his tan legs, but Agron can't be fucked to care. He slowly turns Nasir around to sit on his lap, wrapping him up and soothing him with slow drags of his fingers down Nasir's back. He knows it was intense, too much, and for that, Agron does feel a little guilty. 

“Hey, baby boy,” Agron whispers into his hair, “You were so good. God, you were fucking perfect.”

They stay like that until Nasir's tears have subsided, his fingers curling in the hair right behind Agron's ear. Agron, for his part, does everything he can to soothe the smaller man, feeding him water from a bottle he found next to the couch, smoothing his bangs back from his hair, helping to peel the shorts down and off Nasir's docile body. 

“You know there is nothing in this world that is ever going to take you away from me, right?” Agron sooths sometime later, kissing Nasir's temple. 

Nasir nods, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. He can see the mirror from their position, the glass smeared from his hands and arms, a face print in the center. It's a little ridiculous how much the memory, a mere half an hour ago, can turn Nasir on again. 

“Sorry. It was just,” Nasir sniffles, “really intense.”

“I know. I'm sorry. We should have talked about kink negotiations before all this,” Agron soothes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Nasir's ear. 

“It's okay. I-” Nasir can feel the blush on his cheeks, “I liked it. I like you being in control, hurting me but not too much. You're just so powerful and I feel so tiny next to you.”

“You are tiny,” Agron teases, kissing the tip of Nasir's nose, “My perfect, tiny stripper, yoga master, turned tattoo artist boyfriend.”

Nasir can't help but chuckle, sitting up a little. 

“And you're my barbarian king turned firefighter?”

“As long as I'm yours, I'll be happy.” Agron kisses Nasir's nose again before moving his lips to his neck.

Nasir doesn't want to ask, but there is a question burning in the back of his throat. He's about to work up the nerve when Agron beats him to the chase. 

“Lets get dressed, yeah? And I'll drive us back to my place.”

Nasir can only nod, smiling at Agron already knowing exactly what he needed. Words lodge in his throat, three little words that Nasir is longing to say, wants to be ready to say, but then Agron is easing him up and gently wiping at his stomach with a tissue he found in a box on the shelf and the words get stuck. 

Nasir feels half choked, wanting nothing more than to say them, but just not being able to. 

 

\- - -

 

Driving through the nearly deserted streets of Downtown Brooklyn, Agron glances over at Nasir, illuminated by the dashboard lights. He's wearing Agron's leather jacket again, hair down and around his chest, curling in black waves half caused by sweat. Curled up on his side, his bare feet stick out from the bottom of his sweat pants. 

Everything about him is tiny and precious to Agron. From the toes on his feet to his large hands to his curling eyelashes. It's all beautiful and wonderful to the other man. Agron is certain of it. Even if Nasir never says it, never is able to choke out the words, Agron knows he loves Nasir enough for the both of them. 

He's just about to turn onto their street, paused at a red light, when Nasir's phone vibrates in one of the cup holders, shining bright in the dark car. Hoping not to wake him, Agron reaches for the phone to turn the screen off, freezing when he catches sight of the message. 

**Caesar**

_hope you had fun tonight. you looked good  
i'll be seeing you soon_

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://venomedveins.tumblr.com)
> 
> also, seriously, watch that video in the beginning notes. it's phenomenal.


End file.
